


Regret is a dish best served lightly chilled, with a side of ornamental radishes

by Nary



Category: Oglaf
Genre: Dinner, Dubious Consent, Fish, Food, Future Fic, Hand Jobs, Inappropriate Erections, Lost Love, Multi, Opposites Attract, Oral Sex, Party, Regret, Sushi, Table Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-21 00:45:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/pseuds/Nary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm not sure about his cock," Sandoval said doubtfully, poking the item in question with one outstretched finger.  "It should be magnificently erect, not sad and flaccid.  It's depressing."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regret is a dish best served lightly chilled, with a side of ornamental radishes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lisan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisan/gifts).



> Many thanks to Elanya and KawaiiDragoness, my betas!

“The Snow Queen is a very illustrious visitor, and we want to make a good impression on her,” the Mistress said, tapping her nails on the arm of her throne for emphasis as she addressed her court. “And besides, she can freeze your tits off. Therefore, she is to be kept entertained, and treated with the utmost respect. While she is my guest,” continued Mistress with a frown, “each of my ambassadors will host some amusing – and tasteful – soirée for her.” Sandoval felt like she was giving him a particularly pointed look at that, and so he gave her his most harmless smile in return. (It still managed to seem seductive, but he couldn’t help it.) It was quite possible that the Mistress’s definition of ‘tasteful’ did not match his own, but he wasn’t too worried about that. He knew right away what he would do. As the courtiers dispersed, he lingered after the crowd, waiting for a moment’s audience with his lady.

“What do you want?” snapped Mistress. She was more than usually snappish lately – she’d gone through three apprentices in as many months. The first had fled screaming in the middle of the night, waking Sandoval from his beauty rest with his gibbering. The second had been devoured by the Book of Forbidden Love, judging by the pair of underpants and the little smear left on the library floor. And the third had made the mistake of asking when the Mistress was going to actually _teach_ her something about magic already and had wound up being branded with the words “A watched cauldron never boils” and then suspended upside-down over a boiling cauldron with the Rope of Untying. It had been over quickly, at least. After that last fiasco, Mistress had her guards take down the ‘Apprentice Wanted’ sign, saying it wasn’t worth the trouble. 

Sandoval smiled and gave her an airy wave. “Oh, I was hoping to borrow some furniture for a dinner party.” 

***

Of course Sandoval didn’t set up the party himself – his assistant took care of that, not even blinking when the centrepiece was delivered, naked and rigid, to Sandoval’s door. He thanked the guards who had carried it up from the storage room, and directed them to lay it over on the polished mahogany table. They dumped it unceremoniously in a heap of skinny limbs and disheveled hair and left. Sighing, the assistant began straightening Ivan out. He had to admit that the late apprentice’s pale skin made a lovely contrast with the dark wood. True, there was the disconcerting way his eyelids kept opening, leaving him staring blankly at the mirrored ceiling, but those could be weighted down once the table was set.

The delicacies that were to be served at the evening's entertainment came from all the corners (and some nooks and crannies) of the land. Sandoval had specifically requested croquembouche and crème brûlée for dessert, but had otherwise left the choices of appetizers and main courses up to the discretion of the chefs. "Oh, but make sure everything can be served cold," he added as an afterthought. So there were vats of gazpacho soup, huge platters of fresh fruit and vegetables carved into elegant and amusing shapes, demoned eggs, a veritable oceanarium of jumbo shrimp and artistically-sliced raw fish, as well as a plentiful supply of sparkling wines mixed with just a touch of nymph water (the extra fucky variety) for zing. The assistant oversaw the careful presentation of all of these elegant morsels, moving in occasionally to adjust the placement of a shrimp tail or an ornamental radish-flower until it was just so, or to refold a napkin into a more elegant boat shape. He himself handled the decoration of the centrepiece, though, covering the apprentice's motionless body with edible flowers, sashimi, and, to keep Ivan's body temperature down and the fish properly chilled, tucking ice into every available crevice. It lent a pleasing blue tone to his lips that complimented the linen tablecloth quite nicely. 

Having been forewarned that the Snow Queen's mere presence would chill the chamber, Sandoval dressed strategically for the occasion: a cloak and hood lined with thick dark blue fur that accentuated his silvery hair, trousers made from the finest fire-moth silk, and a corset that left his nipples exposed for maximum glass-shattering impact. He also had the inspired idea of borrowing the Hot Bitches - ever since Ivan's tragic failure to be able to complete his chores, Sandoval's assistant had taken over the task of oiling them, so it was no trouble to temporarily chain them up in the dining room instead of in the dungeon. They did impart a lovely glow to the place, it had to be admitted, although placing them at opposite ends of the chamber for heat dispersal seemed to make them more than usually frisky. "Be patient," Sandoval instructed them, wagging his finger sternly as they writhed and moaned and attempted to entice him with promises of infinite pleasure. He still had the burn cream from the doctors to remind him why that was a bad idea. 

"What do you think, sir?" his assistant asked with just the right note of deferential hopefulness. 

Sandoval surveyed the banquet with a critical eye, although there was hardly anything to complain about. The food looked divine, the place settings perfect, but ah, the centrepiece... "I'm not sure about his cock," he said doubtfully, poking the item in question with one outstretched finger. "It should be magnificently erect, not sad and flaccid. It's depressing."

"Yes sir," agreed the assistant. "Perhaps the physicians could provide some sort of stimulating tonic..."

"Oh no, that's hardly necessary," Sandoval smirked. "I'll take care of it right now, and if he starts to look a little droopy during dinner, someone can always top him up."

"Very well, sir. But please, sir, try not to disarrange the..." The assistant trailed off with a sigh as Sandoval reached out and took Ivan's cock in his hand, crushing several radish-flowers and knocking over a glass of nymph-wine in the process. "...never mind." 

***

The Mistress was one of the last guests to arrive, always preferring to make a grand entrance. Sandoval doubted whether her ermine bikini would be sufficient to keep her warm, but it certainly did look fetching. "I like what you've done with the place," she said, her gaze skimming over Ivan's prone form without comment. 

"But is it tasteful?" Sandoval asked, taking her arm to escort her to the head of the table. He made sure she was facing Ivan's now-much-more-festive endowment, because it amused him. 

She arched a skeptical eyebrow, but smirked. "It's very... you." He chose to take that as a compliment, and would have gladly stayed to exchange further erotic pleasantries, but his assistant appeared at his elbow to whisper that the Snow Queen had arrived. 

Sandoval scampered over to the doorway to greet the guest of honor. She was flanked by her imposing yeti guards, as always, but smiled... well, perhaps 'warmly' wasn't the right word, but certainly in a friendly fashion, when he bent to kiss her hand. It was well worth the hint of frostbite, he thought, looking at her with admiration. "Welcome, your majesty," he said, smoothly offering her his arm (safely covered with its cloak).

She fluttered adorably and blushed violet. "Oh, you don't have to call me that!"

"What name should I scream later, then?" he asked in his most sultry tones.

"Well, I don't know, I suppose that depends on who you're looking for," she said, wide-eyed and cheerful. "If you're looking for someone, it helps to know their name..." Sandoval decided he didn't need to know - he wasn't good with remembering names anyway, which was why it was fortunate that he lived in a place where people went by names like "Apprentice" and "Mistress". He drew out the chair at the other end of the table for the Snow Queen to be seated, then took his own place beside her. "Everything looks so lovely," the Snow Queen said, admiring the decor, which was becoming lightly frosted in her presence. "But that boy covered in fish... is he dead?"

"No, no," Sandoval hastened to reassure her. "He's merely in an enchanted sleep, due to an unfortunate accident."

"Stupidity," Mistress clarified. "Due to stupidity and not following orders. Is that salmon?"

"Absolutely," said Sandoval. It was always safest to agree with Mistress, except when it was a trap. In truth he wasn't quite sure what had happened to Ivan, other than that he had tampered with the Arrow of Regret, just as he wasn't quite sure whether the fish under discussion was actually salmon or not. In both cases, it seemed prudent not to argue. 

"I love salmon," Mistress said, spearing a slice on the tip of a stiletto. "I was just thinking of it this morning." She eyed the pink, floppy fish somewhat dubiously. "This is _raw._ "

"Raw food is the latest Xoan fashion," said Sandoval brightly, popping a shrimp into his mouth. As the ambassador, he had the privilege of proclaiming new fashions whenever he felt like it, and often did, causing brief crazes about the court such as the recent trend for accessorizing with bacon, or last month's fad for glittery purple genital make-up.

Speaking of genitals, Ivan was starting to look a little less than rampantly virile, so Sandoval took the opportunity while he was helping himself to a few crudités to give him a reinvigorating flick of the wrist. The Snow Queen blushed and busied herself with the now-solidly-frozen food on her plate. "Where are my manners?" Sandoval exclaimed. "Would you care to have a go?"

"No, thank you," said the Snow Queen politely, fiddling with her fork. "I wouldn't want to break him by accident." 

"You should have had him modified into a drinking fountain," Mistress said dryly. "He'd be more useful that way than he ever was as an apprentice."

"I considered it," Sandoval admitted, still idly jerking Ivan's cock, "but who wants a drink that insists on jumping all over your face?" The other guests laughed - everyone knew about the apprentice's unfortunate cumsprite affliction, and it hadn't stopped being funny even after his demise - but the Snow Queen looked a little puzzled and eyed her glass warily. "Oh, don't worry," Sandoval assured her, "that's just nymph water and sparkling wine. It won't insist on adorning your magnificent bosom - although if you chose to pour it there, I would gladly suck on the icicles that would dangle from your nipples..."

The Snow Queen ignored him and took a sip. "It's fizzy and sweet, but there's something else that adds depth, just the slightest bitter aftertaste of..."

"...fucking?" Sandoval smiled lewdly. "That's the nymph." 

"I was going to say unfulfilled desire," she said wistfully.

"Tastes like tears and incompetence to me," said Mistress, swishing the drink around in her mouth before delicately spitting it out onto a waiting servant. "And maybe a hint of cinnamon."

"No, I have it!" Sandoval exclaimed. "It tastes like regret! It's causing each of us to savour our most exquisite disappointments and heartaches."

"That's ridiculous," Mistress snapped. "I don't regret anything. I had my regret gland removed, then implanted in a monkey. Now the stupid thing just sits around crying all the time."

But the Snow Queen was nodding in agreement with Sandoval, her lovely face gone a paler shade of blue. "I... I think you might be right, Ambassador."

"Am I?" He wasn't sure if he'd just made it up, or if it was actually happening, but maybe it didn't matter. "What regret could you possibly harbour, my lady?"

The Snow Queen's eyes were bright with frozen tears. "I wish I'd asked her name," she said quietly. "Then it would be much easier to find her again." 

"Ah, the sorrow of lost love! I know your suffering," Sandoval sighed, striking a dramatically mournful pose. "As for myself, I regret leaving this poor dear boy's most secret blossom forever unplucked, to slumber on in virginal peace forever..." He paused, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Although I suppose that could still be remedied."

"Not on the table, Sandoval!" Mistress exclaimed, but it was too late. Sweeping aside an elegant floral arrangement, Sandoval climbed onto the table and took the centrepiece's tumescent cock in his mouth. The guests applauded merrily, enjoying the show. The Snow Queen blushed, but watched avidly, and nobody seemed to notice the temperature in the room swiftly dropping. Sandoval worked skillfully on Ivan's motionless body, seeking out the spots that, were he conscious, would surely cause him to writhe with unspeakable pleasure. And gradually, unobtrusively at first, he began to detect some response - a tiny twitch here, a shuddering breath there. He redoubled his efforts, to the cheers of the crowd, and at last, with a trembling spasm, he found his mouth filled with a load of cumsprite. He deposited it delicately on the table, where it screamed its accusations for a moment and then froze solid and, mercifully, silent. 

Ivan sat up, his hair in even more radical disarray than usual. "Why am I covered in fish?" were his first words, but he didn't get a chance to say more than that - "why am I naked, who are all these people, why is it so cold in here?" - before Sandoval was kissing him, and also licking him clean of seafood. He was too stunned to object. 

"My darling anchovy," Sandoval was saying, "you're back!"

"Was I gone?" Ivan's brow furrowed as he tried to recall what had happened. 

"Not permanently enough," said Mistress, tapping her fingers impatiently on the table. "I still have to punish you for the four other offenses you committed." Her expression softened ever so slightly. "But maybe tomorrow."

"Come, my little scallop of love," Sandoval purred, helping Ivan off the table and sweeping off his cloak to wrap his goose-pimpled body in its furry depths, "let's get you warmed up." 

"Yes, please," Ivan agreed wholeheartedly, and, still dazed but smiling, let Sandoval whisk him away to the more temperate climes of his bedroom.

The Snow Queen smiled fondly after them. "It's really very sweet," she said to Mistress.

"Sickly," Mistress agreed, standing up to leave. "I'm never going to be able to get rid of him now. I might even have to actually... ugh... teach him something."

"Oh. Well, good night," the Snow Queen said to Mistress's rapidly retreating back. "Thank you for the lovely dinner!" The other party guests seemed to take their cue from the lady of the house and were also dispersing in pairs and triads, to whatever debauched entertainment suited their fancies. The Snow Queen slumped down in her seat, discouraged, and popped a frozen croquembouche into her mouth.

Sandoval's assistant appeared at her elbow and cleared his throat politely. "I beg your pardon, ma'am..."

She looked up, surprised that anyone was even still there. "I'm sorry, I suppose I should be going too, so you can start cleaning up."

"Please don't hurry on my account, ma'am," he said. "I wondered, though, if I might dare to offer you a token of my esteem."

She put on a smile. "Why certainly! What is it?"

"The hot bitches, ma'am," he said, gesturing to the pair of chained succubi. "It seems cruel to keep them confined, and besides," he added, dropping a little of the formality, eyes twinkling, "I'm tired of oiling them down." He held out his hand and offered her the keys. "And I thought you, of all people, might appreciate their company, at least until you can locate your lost love. Best of luck with that, by the way," he said, giving her a little bow.

"Oh my!" the Snow Queen exclaimed, startled, looking over at the curvaceous, glowing red forms of the two demons. "I wouldn't even know what to do with them!"

"Don't worry," the assistant told her as he withdrew from the room, a little smile on his lips. "They'll know what to do with you."

The Snow Queen glanced at her yeti guards, who shrugged, apparently confident in their ability to defend her if anything went wrong, so she turned to the succubi, smiling as she began to unlock their manacles. "I'd normally welcome you to my boudoir, but I'm afraid I'm not in it right now. But it's very nice to make your acquaintahh-ahhhh-AAAAH! Oh, ooooooh, yes!" She writhed and squirmed as their smoldering hands and lips began to melt her in all the right ways. Soon the yeti couldn't even see through the cloud of steam.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at [naryrising](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/naryrising) if you want to ask questions, make requests, or chat!


End file.
